Unsent
by illyria-pffyffin
Summary: The hobbits' unsent letters.
1. To Bilbo

**_UNSENT_**

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Rubanul (Peregrin) 

"Dear Cousin Bilbo,

This is Peregrin Took of the Great Smials.  In case you forget, I am the son of Paladin and Eglantine and I gave you a ball of green yarn on my tenth birthday last year.  If you still cannot remember, I am the boy with the hair like straw who got locked in your trunk when you came to the Smials last summer.  If you remember, it was cousin Frodo who rescued me, when he came to fetch your leaf-pouch and found me dying because I missed tea. 

Speaking of cousin Frodo, can I tell you some things about him?  Don't tell him that you know this from me.  He doesn't even know I write to you.  He stays ever so long this time, right from Blotmath.  Around Yule Papa asked him to teach me my letters and cousin Frodo said he would love to.  He is a very good teacher.  I like studying with him because we do not always stay in the study.  He never minds when I get tired and want to wade in the water or run in the grass.  In fact, I think he likes to slide down the hillside as much as I do and he swims like an otter.  I love having cousin Frodo here.  I can see why you took him to Hobbiton to live with you. 

But Cousin Bilbo, I know two secrets about cousin Frodo.  You see, he writes you ever so many letters.  Sometimes I stand next to him as he writes and I can read what he is telling you.  I know he always tells you he is happy in the Smials.  He writes about the feasts and the dancing.  He says he loves walking around Tuckborough, with all its woods and hills.  He always begs for permission to stay longer because there will be the bonfire, Pearl's birthday, hunting trip with Papa, and because there is me.  He writes that he is very fond of me.  Maybe he also says bad things about me when I do not stay there looking at his paper.  But I know he is not lying when he writes that he loves me and I make him happy.  He does not have to write it.  I just know.  But I know he lies when he says he does not yet want to come back to Hobbiton.  And that's secret No. 1.

I know cousin Frodo misses you a lot.  Sometimes when we have tea he looks sad and says, "Bilbo loves this very much.  I wonder what he is having for tea now."  He does not smoke nearly as much as Papa and my uncles and cousins. He said smoking reminds him of you, so he would rather not smoke.  Sometimes when we go out and the sky gets cloudy, he says "I hope Bilbo remembers to bring his cloak with him."  He sniffs all your letters before he reads them.  He said the smell of ink reminds him of you.  Once we played music in the parlor and sang together. We were singing a song about going home.  Suddenly Frodo stopped singing.  The others did not notice, but I saw it.  I asked him why and he said it was your favorite song, Cousin Bilbo.  Singing the song reminds Frodo so much of you that he cannot go on.

And now secret No. 2.  One night I went to Papa's study and Frodo was there, talking with Papa and Mamma.  They told him to go home to Hobbiton if he missed Bilbo so much.  But cousin Frodo said he could not come home yet.  Maybe in Afterlithe, and that is only because you need some help preparing for your big party.  He said he felt you wanted to go very far. You will go alone, once cousin Frodo is of age and can take care of himself.  But cousin Frodo is worried that you might change your mind because of him.  He is afraid that he will stop you from going.  That is the reason he stays so long in the Smials, to make you think that he will be fine without you.  That you can go on your adventure and not worry about him.

Is it true, Cousin Bilbo, that you are going away and leaving Cousin Frodo alone?  Can you not take him with you, and perhaps me, and maybe Merry too?  You do not feel lonely if you have friends on the road.  And we can help protect you from danger.  At least Frodo can.  Frodo loves you very much, cousin.  It will hurt him if you leave.  I know he is almost of age now, and he can take care of himself very well, but it does not mean he has grown out of his love for you.  

This is the longest letter I have written, Cousin Bilbo, to you or to anyone.  I should have shown this to cousin Frodo.  He will see that I can write very well if I want to.  But this letter is a secret too, Cousin Bilbo.  I love Cousin Frodo so much and I want him to be happy.  Please think again about your plan.  I will see you in Hobbiton in Halimath.  Until then I remain,

Your loving cousin,

Peregrin Took."   

===


	2. To Frodo

UNSENT 

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**_Kalimac (Meriadoc)_**

I can draw a circle, with a lot of tangled fuzz on top, two dots for the eyes and a wide, wide curve for a smile, and you will know that it is me.  

I can draw swans flying in tight formation—an arrow tip flying southward, the shape of the rune "o" you said—and you will know that I've spent an afternoon lying on the hammock, gazing at the sky, watching and listening lazily for birds.  They go south to find warmth, you once said to me, on that very same hammock, my head pillowed on your shoulder and the world was warm and earth-colored around us.  

I can draw a wicker basket full of apples and jutting loaves of bread, a tattered hat and two stout poles and the small blue boat that we always chose when you took me fishing, and you will know I have gone fishing with Dad.  We never did catch any fish, did we, when we set off just the two of us?  You said my prattle scared the fish away and I said the way you fish, people would think you were trying to lure books rather than fish from that quiet pool, seeing as you stuck your nose into whatever book you happened to read, mindless of your pole even when it suddenly started to twitch.  Is there any fishing spot as cool and as shady in Hobbiton?  Who goes fishing with you now?  

I can draw buns, and cupcakes, and pies, and rolls, and jars of jam and honey, and you know that I have just had a picnic.  Do you remember those picnics we had?  Do you have picnics in Hobbiton too?  They will be different, I suppose, from those you had with us here.  You do not have to keep an eye on us, my friends and I, the little lads and lasses.  You do not have to always think up games and songs to keep us amused.  You do not have sleepy, tired, cranky little hobbits to carry to the boat at the end of the day.  Mamma reads me the letters you send for us.  It seems you go to an awful lot of parties in Hobbiton, because Cousin Bilbo wants to introduce his new heir to everyone.   There are dances and feasts and picnics with hobbits your age, and you seem to enjoy their company so much.  

Mamma says "About time that lad have had friends he doesn't have to kneel to kiss."   And her words make me sad.  I cannot remember when I did not think of you as my special friend, and that I am yours.  I have no brother, no sister; you have no one.  It always seemed like a perfect arrangement.  It never really bothered me that there is a 14-year age difference between us.  It never mattered.  Unlike other tweens, you can still see the magic in a tail-less bronze lizard or the dried husk left in the bushes after the grass snake changes its skin.  I never thought that those wonders were not enough, and that only Bilbo can truly fill the void that I could not even see.  I am happy to know that you enjoy Hobbiton.  But can we be special friends again?  Maybe when I am a bit bigger and we can share more than a hammock and a swing?

I can draw leaf-shapes and colored them red and brown with Dad's special ink, and you will know that I have been helping to rake the fallen leaves.  Last year we still did it together.  The gardener was so thankful that he gave each of us a bag of nuts.  But when he left to fetch his wheelbarrow, you looked at me from the corner of your eye, and together we jumped onto the heap of leaves.  It was warm there; a bit ticklish, but soft.  Then you ran off with an armful of leaves and I ran after you, scooping my own bundle, laughing as I chased you.  And we threw the leaves with a flourish to the water of the Brandywine and the river looked beautiful: golden brown, speckled with red and yellow and orange.  You slung one hand around my shoulder as we watched the leaves drift away. 

And I asked you, "Aren't the trees sad to lose their leaves?"

You looked at me and smiled, "Why, Merry.  They will have new leaves in spring, won't they?"  

"But what about the leaves?  Do they feel sad because they have to go?"  

You knelt and brushed my curls aside.  "My Merry," you said.  "I don't think they feel sad.  They have many memories with the trees: sunshine and wind and rain and little hobbit lads sitting on the branch munching apples.  They just have other places to go now, those leaves, so they can make new memories."  

"Do you think the trees miss them?" I asked, relentless.  

"Maybe they do.  But they also have to go on living.  And to live is to be happy, Merry."  

You are not here this autumn, when I scatter leaves on the Brandywine.  

My quill wanders aimlessly now on the paper I have filled with wordless stories, trailing into a shapeless tangle of confusion until the ink runs out.  I can draw many things: stars, flowers, ponies.  But how do I draw longing?  How do I draw love?

I can draw a circle, with a lot of tangled fuzz on top, two dots for the eyes and a wide, wide curve for a smile, with tiny uneven strokes for hands, feet and body.  That is me.  And beside it I draw another face, another body; taller now, bigger, but with a smile as wide as mine.  That is you.  And we are holding hands.

==


	3. To the King Elessar

UNSENT 

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**_Banazir (Samwise)_**

My lord Elessar King,

A year and a half had has passed since last we parted at sunset in Isengard.  Many had have passed since, as you surely have learned from Mr. Peregrin's letters.  Last year had been full of bliss for me.  I married a lovely and worthy lass, Rose, in the spring, and in another month or so we will be blessed with the birth of our first child.  Mr. Frodo had has kindly invited us to live at his smial, and Rose and I do our best to take care of him.

For it is him that worries me the most, my dear King.  None of us returned from the war without some hurt or injury.  But we have healed and become strong again, except Mr. Frodo.  He seems to be hurting still, though from what wound or illness I cannot rightly tell.  He eats little and sleeps badly and he keeps clutching the white jewel that Queen Arwen gave him before we set out for home.  He never complains of anything, and when I press him, will only say that he is tired but otherwise fine.  Yet Rose and I can tell that he is always in pain; a pain nothing can seem to ease.  On the sixth day of Winterfilth he took ill, and he never fully recovers recovered from it.  He is becoming thinner and weaker now, and he tires easily.   The party we had on his birthday was a small, simple one, and he only invited his very few closest friends, and even then he talked little and retired earlier.  He came to Buckland for Yule, but Mr. Meriadoc said he stayed away from the party and locked himself in his room in Crickhollow.

I have talked to Mr. Meriadoc and Mr. Peregrin and they have come more often now.  I notice how much Mr. Frodo seems to enjoy his cousins' company.  He looks brighter and merrier, and eats more when they are around.  But even so, the good days when Mr. Frodo looks more his old self become fewer and far between.  He rarely ever goes out nowadays, spending his time between his study—where he sits writing long into the night—and his bedroom.  He even has his meals there most of the time now, though one of us has to come and remind him to eat.  I know the story needs to be told, but it does not seem right that Mr. Frodo should forget all else while he is writing it.  He gets so mired in the tale sometimes that he loses his appetite, and even loses the light in his eyes that shows that he is alive.  

When he laid aside the office of Deputy Mayor, I was glad, seeing how the job, however easy, wore him out dreadfully.  But now that he takes to lock himself up in his room, making Rose and me worried with his muffled groans and sobs, never coming out and visiting with other hobbits, I am frightened, my King, very frightened.  My helplessness to ease his suffering adds to my growing fear.  I feel him slipping further and further away, and I can do naught to get him back.  It pains me to remember how there seemed to be so many ways I could comfort him in Mordor, where there was no food, no water, no friend and no light, but here, in his own home, among people he knows and loves, and plenty of everything besides, I am powerless.

My dearest King, Mr. Peregrin told us about the Houses of Healing; how you rescued Mr. Faramir, Mistress Eowyn and our own Mr. Meriadoc by the touch of your hands.  Gandalf told us how you brought us back from the brink of death.  Your hands heal.  My only hope for Mr. Frodo lies in you, my King.  Mr. Meriadoc, Mr. Peregrin and I had tried to talk him into going for to Minas Tirith, but Mr. Frodo refused, saying the King had other more important matters to deal with than a sickly hobbit.  And with his condition right now, traveling all the way to Gondor will be too much, and even dangerous, for his health.

So, my King, I wonder if you would do us a great favor.  If you care about us, and I do not doubt you do, do you think you could come to Rivendell around the time of Mr. Frodo's birthday?  Mr. Meriadoc, Mr. Peregrin and I will be riding with him there, as Mr. Frodo will surely wish to see Mr. Bilbo on their birthday, old Mr. Bilbo being 131 this year.  The baby will be nearly six months by then, we will have finished with the harvesting around that time, and I trust that it will be easier for Rose to give me leave then.  Rivendell is not as far as the Shire from Gondor and now that it is safe to travel through the gap of Rohan, you can reach Lord Elrond's house through an easier route.  

I am aware that your duties are many, my King, and maybe what I ask of you is hardly proper.  But my lord, do you expect me to do nothing, knowing that there is a chance?  Do you expect me to deny Mr. Frodo anything that might ease his pain and let him enjoy the life he nearly died to save?  You have been generous with us, my King, but now I am begging for one last gift, the most priceless one.  Please come and heal Mr. Frodo.

All our love to the Queen.

Your servant and friend,

Samwise Gamgee


	4. To Paladin

UNSENT 

**_Maura (Frodo)_**

My dear Paladin,

The inn-keeper in Bree to whom I will trust this letter to be sent to you has already failed in his first postman duty, but I hope he had has learned from the mistake and will see to it that this letter reaches you in all haste.  I have no one else to rely on for the delivery of this message at the moment, and time is pressing.  We are leaving Bree as soon as a beast of burden can be found for us.  We are going to Rivendell, and Peregrin will come with me.

You have a courageous and strong-willed son, Paladin, and I am honored and grateful that he should choose me to be his friend.  His company brings me untold joy and comfort; things that I treasure even more on our present journey.  I wish I could write that it is naught but another trip across the Shire that we often did together.  I wish I could say the only danger we would find would be nothing more than a dire shortage of wine.  I wish I could tell you that your Pippin would come to no other harm save those that he might inflict on himself by his own unchecked ebullience and daring.  I wish  Pippin would not havehad not chosen to come with me and be spared the terror and peril of this flight into the unknown.  But it is not to be.  

Your son had has offered me his company on this journey despite my attempts to reason with him.  Perhaps I had not been firm enough with him, weakened by the thought of how much more cheery the roads would be with him around.  I am older, you might remind me, and should therefore have the wisdom to parry Pippin's less experienced argument with a lot more authority.  But you know your son better than I do, dear Paladin, and when can you ever deny him anything, knowing that he would find other ways, other riskier ways sometimes, to finally get what he wanted?  And with that in mind, along with the joy in knowing that I would be rewarded with your son's sunny companionship, I accepted his generous offer, hoping that he would not come to much harm if I keep an eye on him.

But even so I regret to tell you that there was little I could do to protect him when danger loomed over us.  To my lasting horror, twice already in less than a fortnight Pippin had has had to look at death in the eyes.  And each time I was reminded of my selfishness: dragging the sole heir to the thainship to come along on my treacherous journey, thrusting your beloved son into all manners of unimaginable peril.  Nothing I can say can ever be enough to redress this thoughtless deed, not even a thousand apologies.  

And even now, I cannot with certainty say that Peregrin shall be spared the menacing shadows that continue to pursue us.  I fear for him.  Believe when I say that if it were safe to send him home I would.  But with darkness encroaching from all corners of the land, evil beyond our memory and imagination, there will be no safe place, not even in our peaceful Shire, that could shelter him for long.  It is in the hope that I can draw away the dreadful eyes of the Enemy from our home that I fled.  But our course is yet undecided, the outcome of our quest unclear.  

I vow that I will do all in my powers to guard Peregrin—and everyone else in my company—against further harm, but that will hardly be enough.  What I am about to tell you might sound harsh and unfeeling, but it is the truth.  Not even a legion of swordsmen and bowmen could ever hope to stem the tide of the growing malice.  I left with the conviction that I would never return, but I still fiercely hold on to the hope that my young friends wouldwill.  But if in the most bitter end we were overcome, please promise me one thing, Paladin: that you shall do all that you can to ensure that Peregrin's valor and sacrifice shall not be in vain, that the Shire shall be protected from any incoming danger.  Do not be deceived by the seeming security and peace of our land; evil is lurking just beyond our borders, we have seen it.  

You and dear Eglantine had raised a fine son, Paladin: vivacious, valiant and unwavering.  To have him with me, with us, on this journey, is a blessing.  I hope I shall have the joy of returning with him when all of this is over.  

My love to all the good hobbits of the Smial.

Yours,

Frodo


End file.
